


The story behind Irene Adler.

by bombhumpa



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood, Gen, Hard childhood, I'm Bad At Tagging, Just read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombhumpa/pseuds/bombhumpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know Irene Adler, the dominatrix. But she hasn't always been a dominatrix, has she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The story behind Irene Adler.

Irene Adler, the Woman.

 

Strong, independent, powerful. That’s what she’s been. All of that. She’s not anymore.

Sherlock Holmes, the great Sherlock Holmes figured out the password to her phone, and with that he ruined her life.

It was stupid. Why had she let her heart rule over her brain, over her incredible mind?

Everything was taken from her. Her business, her house, everything she owned. Just because of a stupid, stupid password.

 

 

Her childhood was rough. An abusive father and a mother who never was home, who didn’t even know her own childrens’ name.

She had a little brother whom she loved above everything else, whom she always tried to protect. She failed. One night when their father came home from the pub he was drunk as usual. He hit her, and then her brother. She tried to protect him, but the punch had been too hard. Her brother was beyond rescue. She watched as life left him, crying silent tears. By then she’d been fourteen. ‘Just two more years’, she’d told herself. ‘Two more years and I’ll be out. The all of this will be over’

Every morning for two years she dragged herself out of bed. She was determined to finish school, she needed to finish school.

Every morning she had new bruises on her body. Bruises she covered with clothes and lies. She let no one close, she learned to put up walls around herself. She was strong on her own, she didn’t need anyone.

She graduated with excellent grades. The same day she graduated she was out of the house, leaving it behind her. She was never going to return.

 

She moved to London, making her way with stray jobs. She managed college. Slowly the bruises and marks she had were disappearing. She still didn’t have friends, she refused to let anyone get close to her.

She knew what was said about her in the hallways. She didn’t care, she just needed her graduation.

 

Starting uni was easy. Graduating was even easier. She never thought of her childhood home, why would she? She didn’t know anything about her parents. Where they were or what they were doing. She didn’t even know if they were still alive.

Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, crying out her brother’s name, trying to escape the hits her father gave her. The nightmares would never stop, they always hunted her.

 

After uni she focused on her work. She had a regular income, was able to get herself a better flat, decent clothes and food on her table. That was when she met Kate.

Kate seemed like something special. She saw through the walls Irene had built. Slowly she teared them down. Irene let her through.

 

Years went by, and Irene slowly started to find herself.

Irene had a business, Kate was her maid. Well, Kate was more than that. Her best friend, for an example. And sometimes her lover.

She had clients, clients who submitted to her.

Irene loved having control, it made her feel strong.

Dominatrix; that was what she preferred to be called. It was a new life. A life where she was respected, looked up to. She didn’t have to fear anyone. Her business went well, so very well.

She came in contact with James Moriarty, the consulting criminal and mastermind. Both of them had laid eyes on Sherlock Holmes, a very special piece.

You know the rest of the story. She fell in love with the detective. Everything she’d become, everything she’d worked for; gone.

 

Once again she was staring death in the face. She’d cheated it so many times before, but this time it was over. Almost. Of course Sherlock was there to save her. The damn detective.

That was the last time she saw him.

 

Strong, independent, powerful. That is’s what she’s been. All of that. She’s not anymore.

Sherlock Holmes, the great Sherlock Holmes figured out the password to her phone, and with that he ruined her life.

She’s changed. She’s building walls again. Thicker, higher and stronger than before. She can barely look anyone in the eyes.

She’s not self-confident anymore. She’s like the girl who ate alone at lunch, who always came home to an empty house.

She’s running, always running. Sometimes from her enemies, from people who wants her dead, or worse, wounded, but mostly she’s running from the memories, the memories and nightmares that’s still hunting her.

She’s alone, she needs someone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the background story and twitlonger for my muse Irene (@thatIreneAdler on Twitter). I figured I could post it here. Please do not steal this work and/or story.  
>  Leave kudos if you liked, and feedback if you didn't.


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